parking lot for lack of a better name
by counted
Summary: When Reno decides to leave work early.


            "Jesus _Christ!"  Reno said, loudly enough that the only other person in the room looked at him.  _

            "Heh, I know, right?"  The man chuckled.  Wires entangled his arms; his hands held the back of a computer in place.

            Reno carefully leaned in and shined a tiny light inside the machine.  "Damn holes won't line up," he said.  "Isn't this somebody else's job?"

            The man holding the computer laughed.  "I'm serious," Reno protested, trying to adjust the metal pieces without dropping any wires.  "Let go for a minute."

            The man obediently let go.  Reno absently groped for the screwdriver that had been sitting on the desk next to him.  He was a little dirty; the building they were working in was still under construction.  Sheets on paper, dusty footprints and sheetrock littered the floor in every room.  The new fluorescent lights lent his skin a greenish hue; it was paler from the change of occupation.  Electricians spent considerably less time outside than Turks.

            "What time are you outta here?"  Reno scanned the floor for the screwdriver.  "Um," he pointed to it, "could you grab that?  It's near your foot…"

            "Five minutes, and you're very welcome," said the man, nudging the screwdriver over with his boot.

            "I'll be here all by mysellllf," Reno whined, picking up the screwdriver only to jam it into the computer's skeleton for spite and protest.

            "That's right," replied the man good-naturedly.  Reno scowled.  "Now, technically, I'm you're boss," said the man a little more seriously, "so you gotta stay till your shift is up, allright?  And actually do something, okay?  Don't just sit around for half an hour."  He cracked a smile.  "See you tomorrow."

            "Yeah, yeah…" Reno muttered as the man walked out.

            Footsteps in the hallway.  A door opened and shut.  Reno slammed a tiny screw into one of the holes; it stuck about halfway through, lopsided and not really holding anything together.  The Turk – although he didn't consider or call himself that, now – leaned against the plastic desk and sighed.  The clock read 10:04.  Twenty-six minutes to go.

            "Well now," he mumbled to himself, "I could stay, and do like the boss says… or I could go home, get a beer and a movie twenty minutes early."

            Outside the room, in the brightly lit hall, his voice was just a little stifled.  "Hm," he said loudly, "Work, or play?"

            Through the door at the end of the hall, his shouts were muffled.  "Seeing as there's nobody here to watch me, I think I'm gonna leave!"

            Pause, silence in the hall.

            From the stairwell, nobody really could have heard him kick the door open, but as he came closer his boots on the floor and slightly off-pitch humming grew, not that there was anyone to hear him there anyway.  The building was quiet as he bounded down the stairs, all sound faded into night and shadows.

            The parking garage was not so stifling; everything had an echo: shoes, humming, lights, silence and all.  It was nearly empty.  Two shiny sedans were parked near the door; Reno passed both at a gait that bordered on excited skip, not that he had much to be excited about.

            A lone car lurked unmoving towards the back where it was just as poorly lit, but twice as empty.  The car was old, grey and one taillight had duct tape on it.  Reno swung the key corresponding on a ring around his finger and switched his hum to a tuneless whistle, mingled with bits of conversation between he and himself, asking what movie he should get, and what were the chances that his speakers would work tonight, and then a little derision at the implication that an electrician couldn't repair his own sound system, outdated and simple though it was.  A few yards from the car he held out his keys and pretended to click a button.

            The car sat there, like always.

            "Stupid car," he mumbled.

            "Excuse me!" A voice from behind him called.

            "Uhhh, what?"  Reno stuck the key into the driver's side door, stuffed his hands in his back pockets, and turned around.  Whoever it was had about a minute; he wanted to go home.

            A short, thin man approached, carrying a white metal box.  He wore a white coat and he had tiny, wire-rim glasses pushed all the way up to his eyes, coal black, like his hair which was short and looked as if it had been cut by a blind man.

            "What're you doin' here, doc?"  Reno asked casually, eyeing his watch.

            "I-I'm surprised that you know I'm a doctor!"  The man grinned a nervous, jittery grin.  "Actually, I hope to become a doctor.  Right now I am studying as a medical assistant and practitioner-"

            "That's great, doc."  Reno turned the key.  "Dammit," he muttered.  The key was stuck.

            "I – wait, I have an excellent offer for you!"

            Reno turned back, annoyed.  "Allright, well, ya don't got much time, so talk fast."

            The doctor nodded quickly.  "Well, Mr. Reno, you used to be a Turk, am I correct?"

            Reno raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah, how'd you know-"

            "Not important!"  The little man rushed.  "What is important is what was added to you… artificially."

            Reno started.  "Ma-"

            "Yes, mako.  It made you a little stronger, faster, more durable.  But do you know a Cloud Strife?"

            "Ye-"

            "How about the Great Sephiroth?  All of those other Soldiers?"

            Reno rolled his eyes.  "Now what the hell does this have to do with anything?"

            "Have you ever wondered why you are weaker or stronger than any of these people?  They underwent the same treatment as you," the doctor continued.

            Reno stared at him for a minute, critically.  The little man blinked, but did not look away from eyes so blue that they tended to make people uneasy.  "Look doc," he said after a moment, "I never thought about that.  I don't care, and I'm goin' home."  He turned back to the door and wrestled with his key, pulled on the handle.  Nothing.

            "Wait!  Are you happy with your life?"

            "Oh my _god, who __cares?"  Reno angrily yanked out the key and jammed it back and turned._

            "You don't care if you're happy?"  The doctor said quietly.

            Reno hesitated, hand on the key.  Tentatively, as if not to offend the silence or the doctor, he pulled on the handle.  The door popped open.

            "I'm not interested, doc," he said, grabbing his keys and swinging open the door.

            "It'll only hurt a little, but you have nothing to lose!"  The man positioned the white case between Reno and the inside of his car.

            Reno sighed.  'What is it?"

            Eagerly, the doctor laid the case on top of the car and flipped it open.  Inside lay a set of syringes, glass tubes filled with green, cotton swabs, some solution in a clear bottle, and a smaller metal box with half a latex glove dangling out the side.  Reno studied the contents of the case, heart pounding.  How had this man gotten all this, what did he want?  Old Turk knowledge leaked into his conscious thoughts; material was common, but raw mako was stuff of the Planet itself, it was like carrying around tubes of Heaven's blood…

            The doctor's breathing was forcibly quiet.  "Just a small fee," he whispered, "almost nonexistent side-effects…"

            Reno slowly drew his eyes from the case and ducked into his car, shut the door, draped his arm over the window with no glass.  Looking at the concrete wall in front of him, looking at the tomorrow ahead of him, he thought it would be grand to be a Turk again…

            "How much?"  He said.

            "Whatever you have in your wallet."

            He checked.  About fifty gil.  He put the money in the doctor's open hand, put his almost empty wallet on the dashboard.  The doctor snapped on latex gloves and took out a cotton swab and the bottle of solution.  Reno watched numbly as the solution dripped onto the cotton, glistening.  He didn't know if he should, he didn't know if it was okay, but it didn't matter.  He couldn't back out now.  The doctor's glittering black eyes met his own expectantly, thin, spiderlike fingers hovering over Reno's exposed arm.

            He stared back at the wall, found a tiny rugged nook where his eyes could hide and watch and wait till it was over.  Clenching his fist, he muttered, "Stick me, doc," and waited.


End file.
